Nicely Aged Half Blood Meat
by HorklumpFondler
Summary: An unusual demigod with a rare gift arrives at Camp Half-Blood and has a hard time fitting in. When she befriends Percy and the gang and finds romance in the arms of a god, things begin to look up...until she finds out that her mom's life is in danger.
1. Prologue

NARRATOR'S NOTE

If you're reading this, it's probably because you love the Percy Jackson books, right? Naturally. And I'm sure you think they're fiction, right? Of course you do. And you know there are no such things as Olympian gods, or monsters, or half-bloods, right?

Wrong.

It's all real. Very, very real. And that's why I'm echoing the warning Percy gives you at the beginning of the first book: If you think you might be a half-blood, stop reading this story right now. Navigate over to another page, or close your browser, or turn off your computer altogether – whatever it takes to make sure you don't read another word. Just forget you ever clicked on this story and do your very best to keep on living an ordinary life. You'll be better off for it, I promise.

What's that? You're an adult, you say? Even if there were such things as half-bloods, you couldn't possibly be one, because you're not a teenager anymore?

Wrong again. And if you're an adult, you'd better make doubly sure that you don't read this. The life of an adult half-blood is dangerous. Insanely dangerous. I should know.

Want to know why?

Because I'm a half-blood. And I'm also...

…thirty-five years old.

My name is Melissa Parr. I'm an immigration lawyer at the firm of Beck, Haley & Patrick in downtown Toronto, Canada. For the first thirty-four years of my life, I thought I was an ordinary person: normal family, normal career, and normal life. It was only last year that I found out how incredibly mistaken I was.

Yes, I admit that I'm a little bit older than the average half-blood. (OK, somewhat older.) (OK, A LOT OLDER, BUT YOU DON'T HAVE TO RUB IT IN.) But that doesn't mean that my life is any less crazy than that of a younger demigod – or any less dangerous. That's why I'm writing this: to let all of you adult Percy fans know that being past your high school years doesn't mean that you can't be a half-blood.

Still not going to listen to me? OK, fine. If you insist, I'll tell you my story – from beginning to end. But if anything you see sounds even vaguely familiar, stop reading right then and there.

Don't say I didn't warn you.


	2. A Snake Infiltrates My Law Firm

The day I found out I was a half-blood wasn't exactly a great one to begin with. I overslept that morning and had to grab the first outfit I saw so I wouldn't be late for work. It was only when I was on the subway that I noticed the coffee stain on my skirt. It was in an extremely conspicuous place - right over my upper left thigh. The fact that it was shaped a little bit like Jay Leno's head made it even more obvious.

"Arrggghh," I said. I _had_ spilled an espresso macchiato on myself last week at Starbucks, but I tossed the skirt in the wash as soon as I got home and thought nothing of it. I've always been able to get stains out of my clothes very easily. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever had a permanent clothing stain in my life. That's because my mom makes this great homemade laundry soap, with lye and herbs and who knows what else. She used it on my laundry when I was a kid, and when I moved out for college, she made sure to give me a huge Baggie full of the stuff. She's been keeping me supplied with it ever since. Last week was the first time I've ever run out of it, and I guess the Tide liquid I used in its place didn't do a very good job on the coffee stain.

I guess I should explain that looking professional is a major part of my job, which is why I was so freaked out about the stain. As a lawyer at Beck, Haley & Patrick LLP, one of Canada's biggest law firms, I'm expected to impress my clients with my razor-sharp legal logic, my brilliant courtroom advocacy, and my splatter-free clothing. I suppose I'm pretty good at the first two, because I've never lost a case. (OK, OK, I know I'm bragging a bit, but something like that means a lot to a dyslexic who was told as a kid that she'd never amount to much.) Unfortunately, the third one was posing a bit of a problem. I licked my finger and rubbed Jay Leno's chin in a halfhearted attempt to remove him from my skirt, but to no avail.

_Screeeeee!_ The squeal of the subway brakes put a halt to my stain-removal efforts.

"Bay Station," intoned the recorded voice over the PA system. "Bay Station."

Bay Station is my stop. I got up and joined the crowd of people who were shuffling through the subway doors toward the station escalator. As I rode up to street level, I tried to adjust my jacket so it covered the coffee stain, but to no avail – the stain was too low for the jacket hem to cover it. I would just have to hope that no one noticed it, especially not my boss.

The Beck, Haley & Patrick office is just a few steps away from the street-level entrance to the subway station. It's a big corporate building with reflective panel windows and a heavy revolving door that has nearly cost me a limb on more than one occasion. (In fact, I think a couple of people _have_ gotten their arms stuck in it before. You'd think a law firm would have a safer method of entrance, but I guess they have a lot of confidence in their personal-injury defence division.)

"Morning, Melissa," called Bella, one of the front desk receptionists, as I crossed the oak-paneled lobby and headed for the elevators.

"Morning, Bella."

She looked at me and frowned. "Are you OK? You're walking funny. Did you get hurt?"

I looked down and realized I'd unconsciously been trying to cover the coffee stain by holding my briefcase in front of my left leg, which was making me walk rather awkwardly.

"No, no, I'm OK," I told her. "I just had a bit of an, um, coffee mishap." I lifted the briefcase to show her the stain.

She gave me a sympathetic smile. "Been there, done that," she said. "You might want to head to the bathroom and try to wash it out, though – Mr. Brunner would like to see you. He says he'll meet you in your office at nine-ten." She handed me a pink message slip.

I groaned inwardly. Mr. Brunner was the guy who had come to replace my supervising partner when he'd taken a leave of absence last month. He was a nice man – a middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair, with curly hair and a short, tidy beard - but he was a bit nosy. He was always asking me questions about my personal life. Not only that, he didn't seem to have a lot of practical experience in law. From what I'd heard, he had spent most of his career as some sort of academic. I often felt as though I was explaining more things to him than he was to me.

I took the message slip and stuffed it into my jacket pocket. "Thanks, Bella."

"No problem. See you later." She turned and busied herself with something in one of her desk drawers.

The elevator block is in a short hallway just to the left of the reception desk. I pressed the "up" button and checked my watch – it was 9:07. Hopefully an elevator would come quickly and wouldn't make too many stops before it reached the twenty-seventh floor, where my office is - I didn't want to be late if Brunner was planning to meet with me.

_Ding_! As if responding to my thoughts, the doors to one of the elevators slid open. There was nobody on it except for a woman about my age. She was wearing a gray blazer and green pants and had dark brown hair done up in a chignon.

"Going up?" she asked, smiling at me and holding the doors open.

"Thanks." I stepped onto the elevator. The doors closed and the car began its long, slow ascent to the twenty-seventh floor.

The woman glanced down at my skirt. "Had an accident?" she asked, looking at the coffee stain.

I felt the colour rise in my cheeks. _Yes, but it's not exactly polite to point it out_, I thought, _especially since you don't know me from Eve_. "Yup," I said. I noticed that _her_ pants were made of some weird scaly material, like those snakeskin miniskirts that rocker chicks used to wear in the '80s. If you ask me, wearing something like that is a much worse fashion crime than a stained skirt.

"It's not like one of your kind to be so clumsy," she said.

OK, now _that_ was rude. _Really_ rude. I might have spilled one coffee on myself, but that didn't make me clumsy. And what did she mean by _"my kind"_? Lawyers? Blondes? Geminis?

"What are you talking about?" I snapped.

"Your accursed reflexes are one of the worst things about you people," she said. "I'm glad to see that yours seem to be...underdeveloped." She caught my gaze, and her lips spread into a smile. It was a creepy smile, one that showed all of her teeth and made her look almost...predatory.

"I don't know who you think you are," I told her, "but it's incredibly rude of you to..." My breath caught in my throat. The woman's face was changing. Her eyes, which had looked perfectly normal a moment ago, were beginning to glow with an eerie reddish light. Her elegant chignon had come down and her dark hair was lengthening, separating into pointed strands as it headed toward the floor.

"Oh, you'll know who I am soon enough, half-blood," the woman hissed, taking a step toward me. "Too bad it'll be the last thing you ever find out." She opened her mouth, and I saw that her formerly perfect teeth had transformed into sharp, two-inch-long fangs.

A wave of pure terror coursed through me. I stumbled backward, trying to put as much distance between myself and the crazy vampire lady as possible, and fell against the elevator doors.

"Twenty-seventh floor," intoned a recorded voice, and then, by some miracle, the doors opened. I backed out of the elevator, my heart pounding with fear, and slammed against the wall opposite the elevator. The vampire lady followed, her eyes ablaze with crimson light. I tried to run, but my high heels tripped me up and I fell painfully onto the hallway carpet. My briefcase fell from my hands and went spinning across the floor.

"Aaaaaarrrgggghh! Somebody help me! HELP!" I shrieked, but the doors to all of the offices remained closed. I looked up at the vampire lady, who was advancing on me slowly, and saw that she had transformed again. She was still wearing her gray blazer and white blouse, but her snakeskin pants had disappeared. Not only that, her legs had disappeared. In their place was an enormous, dark-green serpent's tail, ten feet long and as thick as a tree trunk.

I screamed again and tried to scuttle backwards, crab-walk style, but I only made it a few feet before I backed myself into a corner. The snake woman loomed over me, her tail making a horrid scratching sound as she slithered across the carpet.

"A little old for a demigod, aren't you?" she sneered. "No matter – I like my flesh nice and gamey." She licked her lips with a long purplish tongue and bent toward me, fangs extended, moving in for the kill.

"What ho, Melissa!" A male voice made the snake woman turn. It was Mr. Brunner, zipping along the hall in his motorized wheelchair. He had something in his hand.

"Catch!" he called, and tossed me the object he was holding. I tried to grab it, but missed. It hit the wall and fell to the floor beside me, and I saw that it was some sort of bronze dagger. I reached out, seized it, and stabbed in the general vicinity of the snake woman's chest. She knocked my arm away and the knife point failed to make contact, but I had surprised her enough to give myself time to scramble to my feet. My heels had fallen off, but I didn't care. I just made a run for it. My feet carried me forward as though I was on casters – and then I somehow found myself way down at the other end of the hallway, gasping for breath and clutching the dagger. There was now at least fifty feet of space between me and the snake woman.

Before I could even wonder what had happened, the snake woman snarled and headed for Mr. Brunner. He put his chair into reverse and zoomed backward in my direction, but the snake woman kept coming, and she was fast. He was in a wheelchair...he was defenceless...I knew I had to do something. I took a step forward, and suddenly I was right next to the snake woman. Without thinking, I hefted the dagger and plunged it into her chest.

The snake woman looked down at the hilt of the dagger, which was sticking straight out from her rib cage. Then, with a horrible, ear-splitting scream, she exploded, showering me and Mr. Brunner with a spray of foul-smelling, mustard-coloured dust. The dagger, which was covered in some kind of disgusting greenish slime, clattered to the floor.

I looked at Mr. Brunner. He looked at me. And then I did what any sensible person would do following such an experience. I fainted.


	3. It Wasn't a Llama

"Melissa? Are you awake?" The voice sounded clearer and more distinct this time. I opened my eyes a bit wider and the bearded face of Mr. Brunner swam into view. His brow was furrowed with worry.

"Mr. Brunner?"

With a sudden thrill of horror, I remembered the snake woman. I sat bolt upright and looked around frantically.

"Where is she? Where is she? Mr. Brunner, we've got to get out of-"

"Please calm down, my dear. The _lamia_ has, for the time being, been eliminated. We are in no immediate danger."

My head whirled from left to right. We were in a familiar office – my office, in fact – but Mr. Brunner seemed to be correct: there was no sign of the hideous snake lady anywhere. My heartbeat slowed and I sank back against the wall. I looked down at my lap and saw that my clothes were splattered with a sickly mixture of blood and yellowish powder.

"What happened?" I croaked.

"You were attacked," Mr. Brunner said. "By a _lamia_."

"It wasn't a llama! It was some sort of – "

"No, no, no. A _lamia_, a female snake monster that feeds on human flesh. But as I said, she is gone. You destroyed her with this." He held out the bronze dagger.

"I destroyed her? But – but – "

"This is not the time for discussion," interrupted Mr. Brunner. "I realize that you have many questions, but if one monster has sensed your presence, there could very well be more coming. We must get you to a safe place." He wheeled over to my desk, picked up the phone, and dialled a number.

"Hello?...Yes, I'm with her now. It turns out that our suspicions were correct...a _lamia_ attacked her. She defeated the monster, but she is injured...Would you send Mr. di Angelo to us right away, please?" He hung up.

"Who were you talking to?"

Mr. Brunner shook his head. "Never mind," he said. "Our means of transportation will be arriving shortly."

"Transportation?"

"A young friend of mine has very kindly volunteered to help us get to – Ah, there he is now." Mr. Brunner nodded at the wall opposite my desk.

I watched in utter bewilderment as an indistinct shadow on the wall began to ripple and shake. It morphed slowly into a rectangle shape, then stabilized, and a teenage boy stepped out of the shadow as though it were an open door. He was tall and thin with shaggy black hair and large dark eyes, and he wore black jeans and what appeared to be an old-fashioned aviator jacket.

"Melissa Parr, meet Nico di Angelo. Nico, Melissa," said Mr. Brunner.

The boy held out a hand for me to shake. I grasped it weakly, getting dust and monster sludge all over it in the process. "Sorry," I croaked.

The boy looked at his thoroughly slimed hand, then shrugged. "No worries, I'm used to it." He turned to Mr. Brunner. "Are you ready to go?"

Mr. Brunner nodded. "Melissa, if you would kindly take Nico's hand – no, take the one that's already dirty – and hold on very tightly." Utterly bewildered, I did as he asked. Mr. Brunner seized the boy's other hand. "Let's be off," he said.

I didn't even have a chance to ask where we were going or how we were getting there. Clutching our hands firmly, the boy did an about-face and stepped right through the wall he had come out of.

With a sudden jerk, we shot forward. A roaring sound filled my ears. We seemed to be moving, but I could. My stomach lurched the way it did when I rode the Space Mountain rollercoaster as a kid. I clamped my mouth shut, as my breakfast was dangerously close to resurfacing.

Suddenly the roaring sound stopped, and my feet made contact with what felt like hard ground. Tentatively I opened one eye, then the other – and gasped out loud.

Nico, Mr. Brunner and I were standing in the shadow of an enormous fountain, which was situated in the middle of a vast grassy field. All around the edges of the field, arranged in the shape of a U, were buildings of different shapes and sizes. Kids in orange T-shirts were streaming in and out of the buildings, chatting to each other. Two boys were tossing a ball back and forth. A group of girls were leaning against a bright pink house, passing around what appeared to be a powder compact.

I let go of Nico's hand. "Wha – Where - What is this place? How did we get here so fast?"

Mr. Brunner smiled and gestured toward the field. "Welcome," he said, "to Camp Half-Blood."


	4. My Supervisor Turns Out to Be a Horse

My head was spinning and my mouth felt as if it was stuffed full of cotton.

"C-Camp Half-Blood?" I managed to choke out. "What's that?"

Mr. Brunner put his motorized wheelchair into gear and began to move forward. "Camp Half-Blood is a training camp for people with special abilities," he said. "People of...unusual birth." He looked as though he was heading for the largest building: an old-fashioned farmhouse with a handsome wraparound porch. Nico walked beside him, his hands stuffed into his pockets. I increased my stride to keep up.

"Special abilities? Unusual birth?" I asked, catching up to Mr. Brunner. I noticed that my stockings were ripped to shreds and I wasn't wearing any shoes. "But I don't have any special abilities."

"You are quite mistaken about that, my dear, and that is precisely why I've brought you here."

Mr. Brunner wheeled himself up the ramp to the farmhouse porch and indicated several carved wooden chairs clustered around a small table. "Have a seat," he said to me and Nico, gesturing toward them.

I pulled out the nearest chair and flopped into it, covering my eyes with the back of my forearm_. _"Can I ask what's going on now?"

Mr. Brunner exchanged a brief glance with Nico, then studied me for a moment. "How familiar are you with Greek mythology, my dear?" he asked.

_What the hell did that have to do with anything?_ "Um...we studied the myths back in seventh grade, but that was a long time ago," I told him. "All I remember is that there were a bunch of gods and goddesses, and they were all more or less interrelated, and they sometimes got involved in the human world."

"And do you remember some of the ways in which they – uh, got involved?"

"Well, I know they sometimes punished humans who made them angry. Turned them into animals and stuff like that."

"Anything else?" Mr. Brunner pressed.

"Er...I think some of them had kids with humans, too. Wasn't Hercules the son of Zeus or something like that?"

Mr. Brunner nodded gravely. "Exactly," he said. "And Zeus wasn't the only god who had children with mortals. In fact, most of the gods had at least one half-human child, and many of those children went on to achieve extraordinary things."

"Uh...right," I said. "But, Mr. Brunner, what does all of this have to do with me?"

Mr. Brunner was silent for a moment. He stroked his beard, looking as though he was searching for the right words.

"Melissa," he said finally, "have you ever wondered why you've never lost a case?"

For some reason, the question made me feel defensive. "Because – because I'm a good lawyer, that's why," I told him. "I care about my clients. I put a lot of effort into my work."

"Yes," he agreed. "But so do most lawyers. And if you'll forgive me for saying so, you need expend much less effort than most lawyers when it comes to convincing judges to accept your arguments in court."

Now I felt angry. What exactly was he driving at? "What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded. "Are you accusing me of doing – something – to get those judges to rule in my favour?"

"Of course not, my dear. Please don't misunderstand me. I am merely saying that you possess a talent for persuasion that extends beyond the range of normal human ability. A talent that is in fact rather...godlike."

Godlike.

I stared at him for a minute, then started to laugh. "Oh, no," I said. "No WAY. You aren't seriously going to try and tell me that I'm descended from the gods, are you? I mean, that snake thing was freaky, and I have no idea how we got to this place so quickly, but there is NO way you can convince me that I'm a – "

I stopped in midsentence. Mr. Brunner was starting to rise from his wheelchair...only he wasn't exactly the Mr. Brunner I knew. Well, he was from the waist up - but emerging slowly from the chair was the lower body of an enormous white stallion, complete with heavy dark hooves and a long, swishing tail.

I leaped out of my seat, jumping to my feet so quickly that the chair I had been sitting in crashed to the floor behind me.

"Oh. My. God," I said, clutching the edge of the table for support. "You're a ho – ho – holy crap!"

Mr. Brunner looked mildly irritated. "I believe the word you are looking for is _centaur_," he said. "And yes, that is exactly what I am. And I must also confess that my name is not actually Mr. Brunner. My true name is Chiron, and I am the activities director here at Camp Half-Blood." He locked eyes with me, and right then and there I knew that he was dead serious about what he was going to say next. "And you, Melissa Parr, come from divine lineage," he said. "One of your parents was a god. A Greek god, to be specific."

"That can't be," I croaked. "There's no such thing as Greek gods. And even if there were, I couldn't have a god for a parent. My parents are Bill and Lydia Parr. They're just regular people. They're _normal_."

Mr. Brunner shook his head. "You are mistaken about that, my dear," he said. "You could not be here right now if you were not a child of Olympus. A demigod. A half-blood."

I stared at him in disbelief. "A ha – ha – half –"

And that's when I fainted again.


	5. I Wake Up In My Underwear

I awoke to find myself in a large, comfortable bed, tucked snugly under a fluffy white duvet. A metal basin sat on a wooden nightstand beside me. Sitting next to the bed was Nico, shoulders hunched, but he wasn't alone. Beside him was a pretty blonde girl, probably in her mid- to late teens, wearing a bright orange T-shirt. She was dabbing my forehead with a cool, wet sponge.

"Good, you're awake," she said, smiling. "We were starting to get a bit worried." She dropped the sponge into the basin.

"Where - where am I now?" I asked. Someone had taken off my filthy clothes and torn stockings. I looked under the duvet and saw that I was now wearing nothing but underwear and an oversized orange T-shirt that matched the one the girl was wearing.

"You're in one of the guest rooms in the Big House," she said. "You fainted when you were downstairs, so we brought you up here. My name's Annabeth, by the way. Chiron asked me to take care of you for now."

Chiron. Mr. Brunner. The horse dude. The conversation I'd been having with him crashed into my head like a wave.

"Chiron – " I gulped, barely able to get the words out. "Chiron said I'm a...a half-blood. And that one of my parents is a Greek god."

Annabeth and Nico nodded in unison.

"And he's a hor – er, a centaur." They nodded again.

"_And everyone here is all right with this?"_

"Of course," said Annabeth. "We're half-bloods too. My mom is Athena, goddess of wisdom and strategy. And Nico – " she pointed to him – "is the son of Hades, Lord of the Underworld."

I groaned and sank back onto my pillow. "Athena. Hades. OK. I've officially gone insane."

Nico looked at me. "Didn't you know? That you were a half-blood, I mean?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I didn't even know that such a thing existed."

"But – what about the monsters?" asked Annabeth. "Didn't they ever attack you? When you were growing up?"

"Monsters? Like that snake – woman – thingy, you mean? I've never seen anything even remotely like that in my life."

She looked impressed. "Wow," she said. "I knew that some half-bloods survive into adulthood, but I've never heard of one who's never even been _attacked_ until adulthood." She scratched her chin. "I wonder why the monsters never found you."

I was about to say something when there was a sharp knock on the door. "Annabeth? Is she awake yet?" called a male voice. "Can I come in?"

Annabeth nodded toward the door. "It's my boyfriend," she said. "He helped us carry you up here. Can he come in?"

"I – I guess so."

"C'mon in," Annabeth called.

The door opened and a teenage boy walked into the room. He was kind of cute for a kid, with floppy black hair and a nice smile. He was wearing the same orange T-shirt that the girl and I had on. "Glad to see you're up," he said to me.

"This is my boyfriend, Percy Jackson," Annabeth said. The boy held out his hand and I shook it. "Melissa Parr," I said.

"Chiron told me about the _lamia_. Was that your first time fighting one?

"It was her first time fighting _anything_," Annabeth told him. "She'd never been attacked before that."

Percy's green eyes widened in surprise. "Seriously?" He sat down on the edge of the bed. "How'd you hide from them for so long?" He frowned for a moment, as though he was remembering something. "Did you have a smelly stepdad, by any chance?"

"A smelly stepdad?" I was perplexed. "No, not at all. I grew up with both of my birth parents. Well, at least I thought they were my birth parents. Chiron seems to think otherwise."

Annabeth frowned. "You mean you didn't grow up with a single parent?"

I shook my head. "No, but I think marriages tended to last longer when I was a kid. People get divorced so quickly nowadays."

"That's not quite what I meant," said Annabeth. "Most half-bloods grow up in single-parent families, or in families with one birth parent and one stepparent. Our godly parents are more or less MIA during our childhoods."

"So if I'm" – I could barely get the word out – "a half-blood, then which one of the gods is my parent?"

Annabeth, Percy and Nico exchanged a three-way glance. "We can't be sure yet," said Percy finally. "Nearly all of the gods have a number of half-blood children. And for a very long time, most of those children went unclaimed."

"Unclaimed?"

"Meaning that the god who sired them never openly declared himself to be their parent," Annabeth explained. "Or herself, if the child's immortal parent was his or her mother. Yet recent events have, uh...mandated that all of the gods identify their demigod children and inform them of their parentage before they turn thirteen. In other words, they must claim them."

"I'm a lot older than thirteen," I said. "I'm thirty-five."

Percy looked incredulous. "Really?" he asked. I nodded

"Wow, that's...that's old." Then he clapped his hand to his mouth, looking embarrassed. "Not _old_ old. Old for a half-blood, I mean. Old to still be unclaimed."

"What Seaweed Brain means," said Annabeth, shooting a _look_ at Percy, "is that the gods are also required to claim any of their half-blood children who have already passed the age of thirteen. A number of demigods in their mid- to late teens have already been identified, but you are the only one we've ever found who is...somewhat older." She crossed and uncrossed her legs. "That's why Chiron wanted to investigate you personally."

"Investigate me?"

She nodded. "Most half-bloods are in elementary or middle school, but whenever the news features an older teenager – or adult – who does something extraordinary – say, rescuing a whole bunch of people from a burning building or something – we send someone to check them out, to see if they might be an unidentified half-blood. We've had nothing but false alarms until you came along."

"But I've never done anything extraordinary," I said.

Annabeth reached into her pocket and dug out a folded piece of paper. She smoothed it out on her lap, and I recognized it as an article about me that had appeared in the _Lawyers Weekly_ magazine last month. It was a profile piece, one of those things where they interview a lawyer and publish a brief biography of him or her. I was incredibly flattered when they selected me as the interviewee, but seeing someone actually _read_ the article was kind of embarrassing.

"This is how we found out about you," she said, scanning the article. She read from it slowly, as though reading was a bit difficult for her.

"Struggled in school as a child, but rose to be accepted to a pres...pres...prestigious law school...won every single moot competition you ever entered...graduated top of your class...never lost a case, even though many of the cases you've argued were considered imposs...impossible to win," she said. "Sounds pretty extraordinary to me."

"Did you ever have problems in elementary or middle school?" asked Percy. "Like, were you ever diagnosed with dyslexia? Or ADHD?"

I looked at him in surprise. "How did you know?"

"Because we all were," Annabeth said. "All demigods are dyslexic. It's because our brains are hard-wired to read Ancient Greek. And the ADHD – well, that's our inborn battle reflexes. We need them to stay alive." She frowned. "I still can't figure out why monsters never attacked you before now."

Percy looked at his watch. "It's almost time for dinner," he said. "We'd better get going. Are you hungry?" he asked me.

I realized that I hadn't had anything to eat for a very, very long time. "Uh-huh," I said.

"You two go wait outside," Annabeth said to Percy and Nico. "Melissa needs to get dressed." Looking a bit embarrassed, the two boys left the room.

Annabeth reached into one of the nightstand drawers. "I got you some stuff to wear," she said, pulling out a pair of denim shorts, some white socks and brown hiking boots. "Sorry the T-shirt is so big, but they only had XXLs left at the camp store. We've been getting a lot of new campers these days."

Annabeth fiddled with the bead necklace she was wearing as I got dressed. The T-shirt really was huge, so I tied the hem of it into a knot at my waist. I had no elastic, so I had to leave my hair loose. (Fortunately, someone seemed to have washed it while I was unconscious. Thoughtful of them. Of course, my hair probably reeked of monster goop, so getting rid of the stench was probably of benefit to them as well as to me.)


	6. The God of Wine Gets My Name Wrong

I was still pretty banged up from my encounter with the _lamia_, and I had to walk slowly, but I was able to make it down the stairs and across the field to a large white marble building filled with long tables. Dozens of kids in orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirts were seated around them, talking and laughing.

"You'll probably be claimed soon," said Percy. "Then you'll know which table to sit at. But for now, I guess you can sit – "

"She can sit here," interrupted a voice. We jumped and whirled around. Sitting on the table behind us was a short, plump man with curly dark hair and a red, slightly bulbous nose, dressed in shorts and an eye-watering leopard-print shirt.

"Melissa, this is Mr. D," said Annabeth. "He's our camp director."

I didn't ask what Mr. D stood for – I just held out a hand for him to shake, which he accepted. "Nice to meet you, sir. I'm Melissa Parr," I said.

The little man let go of my hand. "Well, it's nice to see that someone around here has manners," he sniffed. For some reason, he shot a dirty look at Percy as he said that. "You see, Peter Johnson? It's not impossible for you half-bloods to behave respectfully toward the gods."

My mouth fell open. "The gods? You mean you're a – "

"Mr. D is the god of wine and festivities," Annabeth interjected hurriedly, "but he does double duty as the head of the camp."

"A job for which I did not beg, I assure you," said Mr. D, wrinkling his nose. "Let's hope that you, Melinda Carr, will inject some much-needed maturity into this accursed place."

I was about to correct him on my name, but Annabeth, Nico and Percy shook their heads frantically. "I'll try, sir," I said instead.

Mr. D looked gratified. "Excellent," he said. "Now let's get dinner over with so I may return to my Pac-Man game." He turned and marched toward the longest table and seated himself directly in the middle.

I turned to Percy. "Pac-Man?"

"Don't ask."

I pulled out one of the chairs surrounding the table Mr. D had indicated and sat down. "Do I have to sit here by myself?" I asked.

Annabeth looked over at Mr. D and mouthed something. Whatever she asked, he seemed to agree to it, because he nodded irritably and went back to talking to Mr. Brunner – Chiron – who had joined him at the table.

"We're normally supposed to sit with our cabins, but Mr. D gave us permission to sit with you just for tonight," said Annabeth. She and Percy pulled out chairs and sat down beside me. I held out a chair for Nico, but he shook his head.

"I'm not all that hungry," he said. "I think I'll go back to my cabin for a while. Nice to meet you, Melissa." One of the shadows on the floor began to wobble and shimmer as it had in my office. Nico stepped onto it and, giving us a brief wave, sank down into the shadow and vanished from sight.

"How does he _do_ that?" I asked.

"Nico's a son of Hades, which means he can shadow travel," said Annabeth. "That's how he brought you here."

"Can all children of Hades do that?"

"Probably, but he's the only one here," Annabeth told me. "His sister Bianca – she died a couple of years ago, so Nico's on his own now."

Poor kid – no wonder he always seemed so sad. "That's too bad."

"I usually sit over there at Table 6," said Annabeth, pointing to a table surrounded by kids, all of whom had her blond hair and gray eyes. "That's the Athena table. And Percy usually sits at Table 3. His brother Tyson sometimes sits there too, but he's not here right now."

"I'm guessing you sit at the Athena table because she's your mom," I said to Annabeth, who nodded. "So who's your godly parent?" I asked, turning to Percy.

"My dad. He's Poseidon, the god of the sea."

"Can kids of Athena and Poseidon shadow travel?"

Annabeth shook her head. "No. Only children of Hades have that power. Demigods' powers vary according to who their parents are."

"So what can you do?"

"She's a master strategist," said Percy. "And an expert knife fighter. And she has this cap that makes her turn invisible. And she can recite the 948 times table backward. Oh, and she's got the biggest brain in the universe." He grinned at Annabeth.

"I'm not that smart," Annabeth said, but she looked pleased all the same.

"What about you?" I asked Percy.

"Well, since my dad's the god of the sea, I can breathe underwater, and control the movement of water. Stuff like that," he said. "And communicate with horses, since my dad was the one who created them. And I can make earthquakes and hurricanes too, but that takes a lot of concentration."

"Percy's one of the most powerful demigods here," said Annabeth. "Too bad he's a total seaweed brain." She elbowed him in the ribs, but it was an affectionate elbow.

He laughed and elbowed her back. "That's enough out of you, Wise Girl."

I smiled. They were cute together, and they seemed like such regular kids. It was hard to believe that they were the children of Greek gods.

"What I want to find out," Annabeth said, "is who _your_ parent is." She nodded at me. "I could see a child of Athena becoming a lawyer."

"Can you do anything cool?" asked Percy. "Call down lightning? Make plants grow? Heal with your hands?"

I shook my head. "All I can do is win in court. And I win _honestly_," I added, in case they were about to question why I never lost a case, the way Chiron had.

Percy turned to Annabeth. "Well, I guess there's one god we can rule out as her father," he said. "Can you imagine one of _his_ being an honest lawyer?"

She laughed. "No way."

"Who is 'he'?" I asked.

"We're talking about – "

"May I have your attention, please!" shouted Chiron, banging a spoon against his plate, and the kids chattering at the tables fell silent. "We have some new campers here tonight. I would like to introduce Tara Fields, daughter of Demeter." A girl with wheat-coloured hair at Table 4 stood up, and everyone clapped for her. "Anthony Mago, son of Hecate." A black-haired boy at Table 14 waved. "Julia Weinmacher, daughter of Dionysus." A pink-faced girl with dark curls stood up at Table 12. Mr. D beamed at her.

"Mr. D's daughter," whispered Annabeth.

"You mean Mr. D is Dion – "

"And Melissa Parr, who is as yet undetermined."

Everyone turned and looked in my direction.


	7. I Share My Hot Dog With the Gods

The silence that followed Chiron's introduction seemed to go on forever. Every single person in the dining hall was staring at me, wide-eyed and mute. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, wishing they would look somewhere – anywhere – other than at me.

After what felt like a century, a lone voice finally piped up:

"_She's_ a half-blood?"

I turned to see who the speaker was. It was one of the campers at Table 11, a short, blond, impudent-looking boy with a turned-up nose. There was no mistaking the derision in his voice.

"She is," Chiron said, frowning at the boy.

The kid didn't seem to notice Chiron's expression. "Why is she so _old_?" he demanded. "I thought half-bloods without camp training just ended up getting killed." He sounded completely nonchalant, as though the idea of people being devoured by monsters didn't disturb him in the least.

"That is usually the case, Ben," Chiron said. He spoke mildly, but the look on his face made it clear that he didn't approve of the boy's bluntness. "However, Melissa seems to be an exception. We are currently unsure as to why."

"She's never been attacked before today," chimed in Percy. "Not even once."

A babble of hisses and whispers erupted in the dining hall.

One of the girls at Table 4 spoke above everyone else. "Why hasn't she been claimed yet?" she asked, nodding at me. She was tall and burly, with stringy brown hair tucked under a red bandanna. Her eyes were hard and her face slightly brutal, but her tone was one of curiosity rather than hostility.

"Again, we are not sure," said Chiron. "Yet as you are all aware, the gods are now required to identify all of their half-blood children. We can therefore assume that a sign from Melissa's godly parent will soon be forthcoming." He surveyed the crowd sternly. "I trust that all of you will make her feel welcome here both now and after she is claimed," he said.

The kids said nothing – they merely stared at me in utter silence. Chiron regarded them for a moment, then took one of the white linen napkins from the table and tucked it into the collar of his shirt. "And on that note, let us commence the enjoyment of our dinner," he said.

I looked down at the plate in front of me and felt my jaw drop. A moment ago, the plate had been completely empty; now, it bore a hot dog topped just the way I like it (mustard and ketchup only – I'm childish that way), a pile of perfect golden French fries, and some crisp carrot and celery sticks.

"How did that happen?" I gasped.

Percy grinned. "Cool, huh?" he said. "The wood nymphs used to serve us, but since we've gotten so many new campers, we've switched to a new system. The plates fill themselves according to what you've been craving." He looked down at his own plate and a hamburger appeared out of thin air. It looked like a normal burger, except for the fact that the bun was blue.

Deciding not to question the blue hamburger, I spread my napkin on my lap and reached for my own hot dog. I hadn't realized how truly famished I was until the food appeared in front of me.

I was about to dig in when Annabeth grasped my arm. "No!" she hissed. "We have to make our sacrifices first!"

"Sacrifices?"

"We always share part of our meal with the gods," explained Percy. He pointed to a large bronze bowl at the end of the table that was filled with dancing flames. "You just have to scrape some of your food into the brazier for them."

_This place is getting weirder and weirder all the time,_ I thought, but I followed Percy and Annabeth to the brazier and dumped in a piece of my hot dog, a few French fries and a couple of carrot sticks.

"To Poseidon!" said Percy, dropping a piece of his blue burger into the flames.

"To Athena!" said Annabeth, pushing some of her food into the bowl with her fork.

"Um," I said. "To – to my godly parent." _And if you could hurry up and tell me who you are, that would be great, _I added in my mind.

When dinner was over, most of the kids headed for the campfire pit. The impudent-faced boy, Ben, smirked at me as he followed his cabin mates out of the dining hall.

Percy watched him go. "I don't like that kid," he said. "If Clarisse wants to stick his head in the toilet, I'm not going to stop her." I wondered who Clarisse was, but didn't ask.

Annabeth frowned. "It's weird for a child of Hermes to act like that," she said. "Usually they're pretty friendly. They like their pranks, but none of them are outright mean."

Percy shrugged. "First time for everything, I guess." He turned to me. "Are you coming to the campfire?"

I shook my head. "I just want to go to bed. It's been a long day."

"Chiron says you can stay in the Big House for now," Annabeth told me. "Once we know who your parent is, we'll know which cabin to put you in."

A sudden vision of myself packed uncomfortably into a small cabin with a bunch of pre-teens and teenagers popped into my head. Even if the camp bunks were long enough to accommodate me, which I doubted, the chances of the kids filling my sheets with mud and other undesirable substances were high.

I turned to Annabeth. "I was kind of – kind of hoping that I could stay in the Big House permanently," I told her. "I mean, I can't go back to Toronto if monsters are going to come after me, but I don't exactly think I fit in here. Staying in one of the cabins would just make it worse."

Annabeth nodded. "I'll ask Chiron," she said. "He doesn't usually make exceptions, but he might make one for you."

"Do you need anything for tonight?" asked Percy. "There's a toothbrush and toothpaste and things like that waiting for you in your room."

"No, thanks." The truth was at that point, I didn't really care about brushing my teeth or my hair or anything else. It was beginning to sink in that I was stuck at this camp, at least for the time being, and the thought was extremely depressing. "I think I'll just go to sleep."

Annabeth seemed to know what I was thinking. "You'll get used to it," she said. "Even if you're a little bit…well, older than the rest of us, you'll find that it isn't so bad."

"Once you get into the activities and stuff, it's actually a lot of fun," said Percy. "Speaking of that, we've got a camp-wide foot race tomorrow."

_Awesome. I get to drag my thirty-five-year-old ass around a racetrack while a bunch of young, fit teenagers leave me in the dust_, I thought, but I didn't say it out loud. Instead, I thanked Annabeth and Percy for helping me get settled and wished them both good night.

"See you at the track tomorrow," Percy called, as I trudged out of the dining hall and toward the Big House.

As I made my way across the field, I couldn't help saying another silent prayer to my divine father or mother, whoever he or she was: _Please, please, please tell me who you are. It's driving me insane not knowing. And while you're at it, can you help me not make a fool of myself at this place? It would be much appreciated._

I stopped and listened for a moment, hoping for something – anything – that would indicate that my godly parent had heard me, but the only sound was that of the wind softly rustling the leaves on the trees.


	8. I Act Like I'm On Speed

When I woke up the next morning, the sun was shining and a gentle breeze was blowing in through my window, which made me feel a bit better. I had a shower, brushed my teeth, and was about to change into my ridiculously large Camp Half-Blood T-shirt when I noticed that a pair of athletic shorts and some running shoes had somehow materialized at the end of my bed. I groaned, remembering the stupid foot race. No doubt that was why they were there.

After putting them on, I headed down to the dining hall for breakfast. There was no sign of anyone I knew, so I ate alone at the same table as I had yesterday, trying to ignore the undisguised stares and whispers of the other campers. Once again I scraped some of my blueberry waffle into the brazier and silently beseeched my unknown godly parent to hurry up and make him- or herself known.

When I was done, I followed the rest of the campers (by myself, of course) down to the racetrack. A large number of people – Annabeth, Percy and Nico included – had already assembled near the starting line. Chiron was there as well, with a stopwatch around his neck and a piece of paper in his hand.

"Quiet, please!" he called, and everyone fell silent. "I am now going to announce the heats for the foot race. There will be no complaining or requests to switch heats. When you hear your name, please gather together with the rest of your heat and perform some warm-up exercises." He consulted the paper he was holding. "James Aaronson, Heat 1! Natalie Albright, Heat 2! Sophie Alexander, Heat 3!"

As Chiron read through the list of names, the kids grouped themselves into their assigned heats and began stretching. Some of them watched me out of the corners of their eyes, probably wondering how much vigorous exercise the old bat could handle before she collapsed.

"Melissa Parr, Heat 1!" called Chiron.

Feeling unbelievably foolish, I went to stand with the rest of Heat 1. Unfortunately, Annabeth, Percy and Nico had all been assigned to different heats, so I was on my own once again.

Chiron continued through the list of names until he reached the final one.

"Ben Zucker, Heat 1!"

The last kid got up and walked over to where our group was standing. With an unpleasant jolt, I realized that he was the same kid who had been so rude at the previous night's dinner. He spotted me and gave me another insolent smirk.

"Gonna be able to keep up without your walker, lady?" he whispered. A couple of people beside him giggled.

Something odd happened just then. I couldn't explain it, but all of a sudden I felt fiercely determined to put this Ben kid in his place. He was younger than I, but he was also chubbier and had shorter legs. It probably wouldn't be too difficult to outrun him.

_You work out at the gym four times a week and you're in good shape, _I told myself_. You can beat this little wiener._

"Heat 1, take your marks!" shouted Chiron.

All of us in Heat 1 arranged ourselves into a row behind the starting line. I crouched down, ready to sprint. Beside me, Ben sniggered.

"Get set!"

_Just look straight ahead and run_, I thought. _Don't look to the side, don't look back. Just run._

"GO!"

Without a second's hesitation, I began to pump my legs as fast as I could. The wind whistled past my ears as I shot forward. It took surprisingly little effort – in fact, it was almost as though my body was acting of its own accord. It had been years since I had run, but it felt completely natural, as though it was something I did every day.

But then a thick cloud of dust from the track blew up into my face. The gravel beneath my feet crunched audibly as I screeched to a halt, coughing and squeezing my eyes shut against the irritating dust. I blinked a couple of times to get rid of it, opened my eyes - and found myself still at the starting line. It looked as though I hadn't moved a single inch.

I looked around helplessly at the crowd. "What the – Why am I still here?"

Nobody answered. Chiron, Percy, Annabeth, Nico and the rest of the campers were all staring at me wide-eyed. Ben's jaw was hanging open in astonishment.

"I was running! I could _feel_ myself running!" I said incredulously. "How is it that I'm still in this spot?"

There was silence for a minute, and then Percy spoke up.

"You're not _still_ in that spot," he said. "You're _back_ in that spot." His voice sounded hoarse, as though he couldn't believe what he was saying.

"Back?"

There was more silence, and then Chiron stepped forward.

"Melissa," he said, "you ran all the way around the track in ten seconds. And it's a one-mile track." He held up his stopwatch to show me. Sure enough, the display read 00:00:10.

"What? But – but that's impossible!"

"Look at the track," whispered Annabeth. I looked out and saw a plume of dust still settling over the gravel. Two long skid marks led directly to my feet. For a moment, there was no sound but that of the breeze blowing the last puffs of gravel dust away.

Finally Chiron broke the silence. "It seems I was correct about what I told you yesterday. You have a gift, my dear, and a rare one at that. I haven't encountered a demigod with superhuman speed in a long, long time."

A flurry of whispered conversation broke out. The kids were still staring at me, but the expressions on their faces had morphed from scornful to awed.

"But which of the gods has children with that power?" Nico asked.

"Only one of the Olympians has been known to have offspring with that particular ability," said Chiron. "As the swiftest of the gods, he – "

There was a sudden collective gasp from the crowd. For some reason, everyone was staring at a point just above my head.

Annabeth, still looking up, shook her head. "I was _not_ expecting that," she said.

I followed the crowd's gaze upward and let out a gasp of my own. Floating above me was a shimmering golden – thing. It looked like one of those symbols you see outside doctors' offices – a winged pole entwined with two snakes.

Everyone present dropped to their knees.

"Hail, Melissa Parr," intoned Chiron. "Daughter of the god of travelers, of tricksters and thieves. Hail, Melissa, Daughter of Hermes, Messenger of the Gods."


	9. Something Really Bad Happens

For a moment or two, there was nothing but silence. Then a lone voice spoke up:

"Oh, no. No way. No. Freaking. WAY."

It was Ben Zucker. He was kneeling on the gravel track like the others, but his eyes were fixed on the glowing symbol, which was still rotating slowly above my head. His plump face was scrunched into a scowl and his tone was unmistakably one of disbelief mingled with disgust. Oddly, he seemed to be speaking more to himself than to me or to anyone else.

Chiron frowned in Ben's direction. "Is there a problem, Ben?"

Ben shook his head. "You mean to tell me that this old broad is my –"

"Well, _hello_ there!" A loud, almost falsely cheery voice cut Ben off. The boy next to him – a long, lanky kid with curly sand-coloured hair and an upturned nose - was clambering awkwardly to his feet, brushing gravel dust off his knees. He shot a quelling look at Ben, then turned to me. "I'm Connor Stoll, head counselor for the Hermes cabin." He extended his hand to me, which I grasped weakly.

"No, he's not," said the kid on his other side, also standing up. "I'm Travis Stoll, and my brother here just _thinks_ he's the head counselor. But it's really me." He grinned at the first boy. They resembled each other so closely they could have been twins, except that one of them was a little taller.

"Hermes cabin?" I asked.

"Cabin eleven. It's where all of us stay – all of Hermes' kids, I mean," said Connor.

"You mean there are a whole bunch of you?"

Travis nodded. "Seventeen, at last count."

"Eighteen," corrected a girl in the crowd. With her slim build, sandy hair and impish face, she bore a slight resemblance to both Connor and Travis. "We got Jamie here last week." She indicated the girl beside her, who was darker-haired and -complected, but had the same mischievous features as the others.

"Oh, yeah," said Travis.

I looked up and saw that the shining symbol above me had nearly faded away, leaving only the faintest shimmer in the hot summer air. "So what – what does this mean?" I asked.

Chiron came forward. "I will explain everything, Melissa, if you will be so kind as to accompany me to the Big House." He looked at the other campers. "The race is hereby postponed until further notice. You may treat the next two hours as a free period." The kids cheered and began to scatter, heading off in all different directions. I noticed that Ben was one of the last to leave – he stood for a long time with his hands jammed deep into his pockets, staring up at the place where the glimmering symbol had been, before turning around and slouching away. _What was that all about_, I wondered.

Chiron's voice broke through my thoughts. "Percy, Annabeth – stay here, please," he called. The two of them turned around and headed over to where Chiron and I were standing.

Percy brushed a lock of his dark hair out of his eyes and grinned at me. "So, Hermes, eh? I have to say, that comes as a surprise."

"Why? Who's Hermes?" I asked.

We began to walk in the direction of the Big House. "Hermes is one of the twelve Olympian gods," Annabeth told me. "He's a son of Zeus. One of his main jobs is to serve as his dad's messenger."

I strained my memory, trying to conjure up an image of Hermes from my seventh grade mythology lessons. "Is he the guy with the flying shoes?"

Percy nodded. "That's him. You've probably seen pictures of him holding his caduceus,

too."

"Caduceus? Is that what that picture floating above my head was? That doctor symbol thing with the snakes?"

"Exactly," said Annabeth. "Hermes is also the god of shepherds, which is why he's usually depicted with the caduceus. It's sort of a glorified herdsman's staff."

"_Was_ a herdman's staff," interjected Percy. "Nowadays it's usually a cell phone."

_A cell phone. Right._ "Of course it is," I said, rubbing my temple. I was quickly learning not to question anything anyone said at this place. "So if he's the messenger of the gods, and the god of shepherds, where does the super-duper speed fit in?"

"The most effective messenger is a fast messenger," said Chiron. "Hermes is well known as the most fleet-footed of the gods, able to move from place to place at the speed of thought. And it seems, Melissa, that you have inherited that ability."

"Which is unbelievably cool," Percy chimed in.

I smiled. "I guess it is," I said. "Especially for someone who used to dread phys ed in elementary school." Then something occurred to me. "So why couldn't I do this before today?" I asked. "I mean, when I was younger, shouldn't I have been able to run rings around the kids who used to pick me last for every school team?"

Chiron stroked his beard, as he seemed to do whenever he was thinking hard about something. "To the best of my knowledge, demigod powers manifest for the first time in instances of severe fright or panic," he said. "In most cases, this occurs when a half-blood experiences his or her first monster attack, which often happens at a very young age – sometimes no more than six or seven." He glanced over at Annabeth, who nodded gravely. "But you were never attacked during your youth, which is why it seems reasonable to assume that you had simply never experienced the intense fear required to trigger your demigod abilities – until the incident with the _lamia_ a few days ago."

Annabeth frowned. "I still can't figure out why no monster ever came after you until so recently," she said. "Did you do anything differently on the day of the attack? Anything at all?"

I tried to recall the morning of the _lamia_ attack. Even though it had happened just a couple of days previously, it seemed as though it had taken place in another lifetime. Another universe. A time and place in which I was an ordinary lawyer working in an ordinary office, and where things like centaurs and Greek gods and superpowers just didn't exist.

"To tell you the truth, I can't really remember anything I did that day," I confessed. "When I try to call it to mind, I just draw a blank."

We had reached the Big House. "Let us go inside and sit down," said Chiron, nodding toward the door. "We have much more to discuss, but – "

"CHIRON! 

A voice behind us made all four of us jump. We whirled around and saw the Stoll brothers, Connor and Travis, dashing toward us. Their sandy curls were in disarray and their faces were bright red and dripping with sweat.

"What's wrong?" Chiron asked, alarm in his voice.

"It's…it's…" Connor bent over, hands on knees, and struggled to catch his breath.

"-Melissa," gasped Travis, wiping his sweaty face with the hem of his T-shirt. "Your mom."

My stomach leapt into my throat. "What? What about her?" I asked.

"We went back to our cabin after the race was cancelled – "panted Connor.

"- and we found this stuck to the front door," Travis finished, holding a rolled-up piece of paper out to me.

With shaking hands I unrolled it, my heart pounding in my chest like a frightened animal. The paper looked a bit like an old-fashioned telegram. Printed in the middle, in stark block letters, were ten words:

**LYDIA PARR IN GRAVE DANGER.**

**THE SECRET HAS BEEN DISCOVERED.**


End file.
